


I'd Like That

by greythewardens



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Oneshot, Pre-Relationship, hand-holding, these dorks flirting while talking about books c'mon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 19:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greythewardens/pseuds/greythewardens
Summary: Her fingers were running over the spines of his books, moving down the row carefully. She paused for a few seconds, her fingers tracing over a particularly worn copy. There was a faint smile curling on her lips before she pulled her fingers away.“I never realized you…” she trailed off, her eyes meeting his across the room.“Had such a collection?” he finished.





	I'd Like That

It’d been such a long evening and he’d been pouring over missive after missive in the confines of the war room, he almost didn’t see her kneeling in the corner of his office. The thin material of her sleep robes flowed around her as she shot to her feet at the loud creaking of his door, heat rising to her cheeks.

“Inquisi–” He stopped himself, briefly closing his eyes before offering her a warm smile. “Gwyn. Are you…did you need something?”

“I…” She knotted her fingers together, shifting on the heels of her bare feet. “I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, eyes falling to the floor. He eyed her fingers, the way she fidgeted with her hands before finally wrapping them around her waist. He took a step towards his desk, carefully placing his paperwork on its surface as he watched her out of the corners of his eyes.

Her fingers were running over the spines of his books, moving down the row carefully. She paused for a few seconds, her fingers tracing over a particularly worn copy. There was a faint smile curling on her lips before she pulled her fingers away.

“I never realized you…” she trailed off, her eyes meeting his across the room.

“Had such a collection?” he finished. She turned back to his bookshelf, bending down to continue her surveyal. He walked towards her, stopping just behind her and eyeing the hand dangling at her side. Her fingers wound around the material of her robes and he considered the small amount of distance between them.

How many times had he thought about holding her hand? Weaving his fingers with hers? Months of watching small fingers constantly fidget during meetings in the war room. How many times had their fingers brushed against one another—five, maybe even more if he remembered correctly? Each time Gwyn’s eyes flicked up to meet his, a small smile on her lips just before looking back down at the floor or burying her face behind a report he just handed her. They mumbled apologies at the same time, but the more it happened the less apologetic he became.

Would her hand feel soft in his? Or feel more like his own? Back in Haven, he’d started training her with a sword and he noticed fresh blisters forming when she came to one of their sessions with dinner in hand.

“You should see a healer, Herald,” Cullen murmured, resisting the urge to take her hand even then. She shrugged, stealing the bannoch off his plate after finishing her own.

“I daresay both of us have been through much worse than a few blisters on our sword hand, Commander,” she murmured. She tore the bannoch into small pieces before offering him a sad smile. “Your broth is going to go cold.”

He knew she was right, but still managed to request a special salve from Adan later that night. At the next meeting in the war room, Gwyn stood beside him instead of across. She leaned in close, tugging slightly on the material of his robes.

“I know it was you.” He opened his mouth to respond just as Leliana and Josephine began to discuss plans to leave for the Fallow Mire the following day. But Gwyn’s arm gently nudged him and he was pleased to find her smiling warmly in his direction. “Thank you, Cullen. For the poultice.”

Since then, he’d wondered if her touch would always be gentle. Cautious. After all, he’d seen her out in the training yard with Dorian—practicing her magic with some of the other mages. She’d spin that staff above her head to conjure flames only to slam it to the ground a moment later, a ring of fire seemingly bursting to life from it. But that wasn’t the end of his questioning.

Especially now. She thumbed through his collection of books, picking one up and flipping through the pages with care. Her hand ran over the embossed lettering before placing it back on the shelf. She smiled to herself and Cullen wondered if she’d flinch if he took her hand. Perhaps her smile would grow, her cheeks flushing in surprise? No, he couldn’t possibly get that lucky.

“Cullen?” Her voice lulled him back to reality.

“Forgive me, it’s been a long day,” he mumbled a little too quickly, heat rising to his cheeks. He took another step beside her, relishing in the brief moment his arm brushed against hers. “You were saying?”

“I just wondered when you found the time to read all these.” She glanced back at the bookshelves on the other side of the room before blue eyes met his. Maker, that’s all he wanted. Those eyes looking back at him. Longer. More.

“Not as often as I would like,” he admitted, chuckling softly. “Truth be told, I’ve read most of them already.”

She raised her eyebrows, a faint smile on her lips. “When have you found the time?”

He pursed his lips. You’re not the only one who has trouble sleeping. “It’s rare, but sometimes at night.”

Her gaze moved to his shelves once more as she considered his answer. “And which one is your favorite?” she asked, leaning forward.

Instead of answering, he watched as she rose to the tips of her toes, fingers outstretched for a worn book halfway pulled out on the shelf just out of her reach. It was hard not to notice her small ankles, or even the small scar on the pale, freckled skin of her left calf the more her robe billowed around her. He tried to hide his smile as the tips of her fingers brushed the spine, a small chuckle inadvertently leaving his lips as she pushed the book farther away.

“Do you plan on laughing at me this entire time, Commander?” she huffed, the small smile curling on the corner of her mouth betraying her. She laughed a little, the sound warming Cullen. He was still getting used to her teasing, the subtle jokes and musical laughter. Maker, as long as it was from her, he wanted to hear it for the rest of his days.

“Allow me, Inquisitor.”

A moment of boldness. He placed his right hand on the small of her back, the fingers of his left hand brushing hers just before grabbing the book. He held her gaze, her mouth dropping open slightly as he smiled at her.

“This one,” he murmured softly, forcing himself to tear his eyes away from her. Her back relaxed against his hand as she stood flat on her feet and, much to his surprise, she smiled back.

“Your favorite?” she asked. He looked away, eyes falling to the book’s cover. It was a simple one—faded leather. Embossed lettering. Pages slightly bent from a well-read life.

He handled it carefully, finally meeting her gaze as he offered it to her. “You should read it.”

Heat warmed her cheeks, the corners of her eyes crinkling as her smile widened. “Are you sure? I mean, I wouldn’t want to ruin it somehow.”

The idea seemed ludicrous as soon as it left her lips. He shook his head, fighting the low chuckle building up in his chest. He opened the book, showing her the frayed edges and loose binding.

“You certainly couldn’t make it any worse. Besides, I think you’d rather like it. It’s got everything- intrigue, danger—” He swallowed hard as she leaned in close, the smell of the soap in her hair filling the air around him. He sucked in a breath at the feel of her hand sliding underneath the book’s cover, her fingers weaving between his own. “And romance,” he croaked, unable to stop the corner of his mouth tugging upwards. 

“Sounds wonderful,” she murmured, eyes focused on the page in front of her. She lifted the book with her free hand, the fingers of her right curling tightly around his own. He ran the pad of his thumb over the top of her hand, feeling the grooves of small, healed cuts and marveling over the softness of her palms. Softer than silk, perhaps.

If she gave him the chance, he would take the time look at each of her fingers up close. He wanted to get a better look at the subtle nicks on the top of her hands, wanted to see how short she’d bitten her nails down to this week. Maker, he wanted to see the grooves of her fingerprints, the dips and designs that made that made her, her.

Cullen’s lips curled into a wide smile. “Y-yes, yes it is. It’s quite good.”

She pursed her lips, closing the book before meeting his gaze. “Could…do you mind I stay for a few more hours to read some of it?”

“Stay?” He hoped she didn’t feel the sweat forming on the palms of his hands.

“Just down here in your office, of course,” she said quickly, her hand squeezing his. “If you’re heading to bed, I promise I won’t bother you. I’ll even put out the lanterns. It’s just—it’s far too quiet in my quarters an-and I’m still not used to all the room, and—”

“Stay as long as you need, Inquisitor.”

“I think we surpassed the need for titles a long time ago, Cullen,” she said softly, her eyes falling to their clasped hands, warm and wonderful in his own. His thumb lightly moved along the side of her palm and she smiled up at him, eyes bright as she took a step towards him.

Could he?

She was still holding onto his hand, after all. He bent down, honeyed eyes following her gaze as he pressed his lips to her hand. He watched the small smile on her lips grow, the freckles on her cheek wrinkle until a tinge of red spread across her entire face.

“Good night, Gwyn.”

He wanted to stay, to sit and talk with her a little longer. Perhaps hold her hand for as long as she’d allow, but even this felt like too much. She clutched his book tightly to her chest, a soft thank you on her lips as he approached the ladder. Before climbing up, he watched as she settled down into his chair, pale and freckled legs visible for only a moment before she tucked them underneath her. Leaning on one of the armrests, she opened the book to the first page, her fingers running down the worn parchment.

He took a step, the rung underneath his boot creaking slightly.

“Cullen?”

Her eyes had flicked up to meet his once more, her lips pursed together as she considered her next words carefully.

“Would you…I mean, if you’re not exhausted, that is,” she stammered, squeezing her eyes shut in embarrassment. Cullen lowered himself from the ladder, waiting. Hoping.

She took a breath, blue eyes opening to find his. “Would you like to join me?”

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips and it spread so wide, he could feel his cheeks hurt.

“I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't seen from any recent posts of mine already, I'm in the process of transferring my oneshots/drabbles, etc, from my old blog on tumblr to here so it's all in one place. So if some of what you're reading seems familiar...that's why! If not, welcome to old fluff I wrote that still slays me.
> 
> If you wanna come say hi to me or just flail about fandom stuff, feel free to do so [@glaiveulric](http://www.glaiveulric.tumblr.com) on tumblr!


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